The Rules
Pinkie Pie Loves Bacon Bits
An absurd Derpibooru-inspired story.
The beat dropped at the same moment the last cardboard box hit the concrete floor of Sunset’s garage. Her wireless headphones pumped the hammering rhythm of the music on her playlist directly into her ears, isolating the girl more effectively than any set of walls or dimensional membrane was capable. The music filled her senses and washed everything else away so she could think. Or not think as the case might be. It helped Sunset focus on the task of moving storage containers of nearly a hundred extra bra tops out of her small home and into the garage.
The music also helped Sunset shake her ass like she still had a tail.
She swung her hips wide, arms still up from the box toss, improvising a victory dance of sorts for a task finally completed. The warm, stuffy air in the closed garage felt almost blister hot across her exposed legs and midriff. The mild sweat she’d built up during the move dried quickly, whisked away into the rafters while she gyrated to a bass line that wanted to turn her eardrums to jelly. It took less than a minute for that heat to turn uncomfortable, but when it did, Sunset merely took a step back and closed the door.
Back in her airconditioned living room, Sunset’s dance calmed down to small movements of her shoulders and head, lifting her heels high with each barefoot step across her carpet. She was feeling good today and her whole body seemed to want in on the celebrations. She’d gotten a couple of calls and an email back from a few of the places she’d sent resumes the past couple of weeks. Nothing was set in stone, but the first step was done. Now all she had to do was make sure she was getting a good amount of rest and that the extra underwear she’d pulled off her bedroom ceiling made it to a donation center before the weekend was out.
Sunset spun around, dropping low into a squat, knees wide and feet together. She bounced quickly, the denim of her short shorts brushing against the back of her heels in time with the thumping music as the song built up to the lyrics. When the deep baritone voice spoke through her headphone speakers, she stood back up, leading with her butt before rising to fling her hair around in a red and gold fan. It was a move she’d seen the cheerleaders doing and it always grabbed the attention of anyone watching.
Not that anyone was watching her now. Unless she counted the birds outside her window that were enjoying the sunlight. That same sunlight was sending shafts of light into her home that provided spotlights for her impromptu performance. After the frankly weird turn her haunting situation had taken a few nights previously, something had occurred to her; the ‘visitations’ only happened late at night, long after the sun had set and when she was feeling exceptionally tired.
Neither condition applied at the moment. It wasn’t even noon yet and she’d slept the previous night away like a hibernating bear, thanks to the stress overload she’d experienced. Realizing she was safe from her personal pink poltergeist made the callbacks from the little retail shops she’d applied at, the cherry on top of her good vibes. All together it made her want to dance.
So she did.
Dancing, however, made her thirsty. Sunset twirled again, heading for her kitchen nook and refrigerator, walking as if she was trying to keep a hula hoop circling her waist. Her head bobbed along with the music while she cracked open the fridge and scanned its contents. The top shelf held a half-full pitcher of sweetened tea and a mostly empty carton of orange juice. While the second shelf was overfilled with an assortment of tupperware containers filled with the leftovers of the last week or two of her dinners.
“Hmmm...need to do something about those.” Sunset wrinkled her nose, eyeing the the cloudy plastic. Hanging out less with her friends meant more meals at home, and that meant more leftovers. The tupperware and refrigeration meant she had to wash over all less dishes though.
The slowly spoiling food was Future Sunset’s problem. Right Now Sunset’s issue was thirst, and what she wanted to quench it with was located on the bottom most shelf of the fridge. She bent forward, one hand on the door, and pushed aside a styrofoam take-out container to reach a cold cylinder of aluminium filled with deliciousness. The chill from the can—and the refrigerator's vents—swept up her arm and down Sunset’s shirt in a pleasing way as she wrestled her drink from the plastic ring that kept it attached to the last of its compatriots.
With her soda finally free, Sunset popped the tab, the fridge door still blowing cold air at her. She tossed it back, eyes closed as she drank in the literal liquid sugar and tingling sensation the carbonation assaulted her tonsils with. The refreshment hit the spot with first swallow. Sunset sighed contently, lifting the can to press against the warm skin of her forehead, the condensation mixing with the little remaining sweat there.
Sunset was just lowering the can again when she heard a quiet gasp followed by a happy sounding knicker that definitely wasn’t part of the rump-shaking remix coming through her headphones.
Sunset’s eyes snapped open and the can in her hand started to buckle under her grip as she struggled to hold back her flight reaction. Every muscle in her body tightened at once and she had to force her head to turn to look deeper into her kitchen. Not five feet from her, standing on her kitchen counter, was the tiny pony. It had a huge smile on its face, stretching its head in what seemed like it should be a painful way, but the apparition jittered in place like a happy dog that just spotted the stick it was about to fetch.
It shook, almost to the point of vibrating, making tiny hops from one hoof to another. The tips of four hooves drumming on the wooden countertop got steadily louder as those soul-searching eyes zeroed in on Sunset. The pony was shaking so much, its poofy tail was starting to leave loose pieces of confetti in her sink behind it.
“B-b-but,” Sunset sputtered and coughed, “it...it’s the middle of the day! You can’t be here! You only show up at night!” The pony cared not one whit and continued to stare intently at her, though it didn’t try to make eye contact. Its hips did start to waggle exaggeratedly, like a cat about to pounce. “I’m not tired, either! Those are the rules! You can’t just break your own rules...what are you staring at?”
Sunset took a step back from her appliances, oversized pony eyes tracking her. Well, tracking her body. Sunset looked down at herself, half expecting to find herself covered in some sort of bra-only outfit. She hadn’t put one on in the morning when her paranoia had been strongest and she’d convinced herself that it was the bras that drew the attention of her personal demon horse.
Instead of some JRPG reject spellcaster bra-armor, Sunset found nothing out of the ordinary with her clothing. But she did notice two somethings prominently—pointedly—different about her appearance. She looked back and forth between the pink pony and the the clear indention of her nipples through her thin tee shirt.
“Wait,” Sunset looked back up and gesturing at her open fridge with her free hand, “this isn’t what you think! It’s the cold air...human mammaries react...it’s not like I’m happy to see you.”
The pony licked its lips, launching itself off the counter a second later. Sunset threw herself backward, arms flailing wildly in an attempt to escape. She tripped on the edge of the carpet where it met the linoleum of her kitchen floor, landed hard on her butt just as the pony collided with her abdomen. Before she knew what was happening, a furry, fluffy equine slurmed itself under and inside her t-shirt. Soft hair and warm hooves slid over her belly, the tip of one hoof using her belly button for purchase as the pony climbed the short distance required to plant its face directly into her cleavage from below.
“Hey! Hey! He-heheheh! That’s tickles, get out of there!” Sunset thrashed around—most from the involuntary spasms the tickling was causing her—pawing at her clothing ineffectual to evict their new tenant. She froze in mid-spaz a second later when she felt the pony blow a raspberry against her ribcage.
“Come. Out! OF THERE!” Sunset looked down and grabbed the collar of her already stretched shirt, yanking it open to the fabric’s breaking point. Tightly coiled and compressed pink mane exploded out, turning her world rose tinted and then black.
When she came to, Sunset found herself lying topless on her couch. The light coming in from her windows was angled differently and cast the whole room in a golden glow. She sat up stiffly and rubbed her face tenderly. Whatever the demon horse kept in its mane had hit her like a surprise haymaker and she was feeling more than a little groggy. Sunset groaned and turned to look toward her kitchen area when a flash of yellow caught her attention. On her small coffee table was her wireless headphones, a post-it note, a glass of water and what looked like a couple of pills of painkiller from her bathroom medicine cabinet.
“Wha?” She reached out and pulled the note close enough to read. There weren’t any legible words she could make out, just a jittery scrawl of ink on the paper. At the bottom of the short note, however, was a clumsy arrow that pointed toward where her encounter with the pony had happened. From where she sat, Sunset could see another bright yellow post-it note stuck to the wall at knee-height.
After a moment’s consideration, she popped the pills into her mouth and took a drink of water. Sunset climbed to her feet and walked over to next note. Under the note was her lost can of soda and the bucket she used when she mopped. The post-it was again covered in an unreadable scribble with another arrow pointing at the fridge. Sunset squatted down and retrieved the crumpled, empty can and noted that it looked like her entire kitchen floor looked freshly cleaned.
The fridge was likewise spotless, her leftovers gone and the plastic containers washed and drying in the nearby sink. There was even a new six-pack of soda on the bottom shelf and another ‘note.’ This one pointed her out to the garage where she found her shirt sitting on top of her washing machine, laid out to dry in the sun and heat so the stretched cotton would shrink a bit.
Next to the damp shirt was one last post-it. Sunset picked it up and stepped back into her cooled apartment. Amid the scribbles and chicken-scratch there was a rough heart shape. Sunset blinked at it in silence and then looked back around her living room to make sure there weren’t any she’d missed.
Finding nothing else out of place, Sunset folded up the little note in her palm. “Since when do demon pony ghosts apologize? And...which should I be more concerned about: the little heart doodle, or the fact that I don’t own any post-it notes it could have borrowed to draw it on?”
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Is Sunset recreating a soda commercial from the 80s/90s in the beginning there? I swear that sequence seemed insanely familiar. That's gonna drive me more nuts than a pony apparition...
PINKIE!! NO FONDLING BACON HAIRED YELLOW SKINNIED WOMEN!!!
static3.fjcdn.com/comments/Blank+_283222fd6ea695eaaa7c0743d67580ca.jpg
8013619
Neither does Sunset.
8013257
If you find it let me know, cuz that wasn't my intent, but it wouldn't be the first time I've accidentally referenced something from that time period.
8013307 but... Why not?
8013677 ITS UNCALLED FOR PINKIE!!
8013993 but HOW can fondling scantly clad bacon haired yellow skinned ponies turned women be uncalled for?!?
8014016 IT JUST IS PINKIE!! DONT QUESTION MY LOGIC!! DONT MAKE ME MAKE APPLEJACK GET HER SHOVEL!!
8014024 Good idea! A shovel will make moving the bras easy peasy
8014035
God dammit Pinkie!
Ooooh I am in love with this story, its hilarious, nicely done man!
I totally concur with Pinkie. I too have a fondness for the bacon bits.
I wonder how long it will take for Sunset to find out it's pony Pinkie. She had an inkling, but didn't come to the complete revelation yet.
That'll be quite amusing.
See what you do Sunset, is Grab the pony and threaten to drown her in your toilet! Or stuff her into the garbage disposal.
8018486
8018494
I said threaten! Not do! Just y'know, scare her off.
8018521
This ends the story.
8018537
Well OBVIOUSLY Pinkie would come back. She might be alarmed at first but she'd realize Sunset would never do something like that! Then she could brazenly call Sunsets bluff!
Or the fact that you don't remember how to read Equestrian?
Really looking forward to more pinkie bacon cuteness ^__^
8081547
But would you do it while peeing?
8081571
Upon second thought, yes, yes I would
I'm kinda curious on whether or not Pinkie is ever going to actually speak to Sunset or whether she's just going to be this silent phantasm that is going to eventually drive Sunset to the looney bin.
Secondly, why hasn't Sunset written to Twilight about these occurrences? I know it would sound crazy if you wrote to anyone else about this, but I would like to think that Twilight would be more understanding of Sunset's predicament.
Thirdly, is Pinkie telling any of her friends about these experiences? I would think she'd be spilling the beans about this the second she got a chance to (unless she made herself Pinkie Promise not to).
Other than that, this is a pretty funny story and I hope to see more chapters of it soon.
8449182
The REAL reason none of these perfectly logical and in-character things have happened is because it kills the joke.
The reason I rather accept is that Sunset thinks she's being legit haunted, that the pony she meets is the spiritual sort of otherworldly, than merely some displaced mare from Equestria. It's weird and she doesn't want to bother her friends. Plus she's dealing with a lot of stuff these days, ya know?
And really, Sunset is a little homesick. Having some randomly appearing terror in pony shape is annoying and a cause for concern to be sure, but it's also like having a little bit of home come visit every now and then.
8662163
*clicks angrily*